


Quarantined

by unkindravens



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Illnesses, Other, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 18:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens
Summary: Patrick and Stevie are sick. David quarantines them in Patrick's apartment.





	Quarantined

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Someone gets a passing winter sickness; cold, flue, persistent cough, anything non-long term threatening.
> 
> Someone else - or a whole village - takes care of them.

David took Stevie by her shoulders and navigated her into Patrick’s apartment. She wanted to fight him, but was too exhausted.

“I have my own place, with my own bed,” Stevie said. She coughed so hard it hurt her ribs. “I don’t know why I’m here.” She looked at Patrick, who was in bed with the covers pulled to his chin. “No offence.”

“None taken, I don’t get it either. David?”

“You two are disgusting and have some sort of plague I’m not allowing to spread,” David said. “You’re both quarantined here.”

Stevie sunk on the corner of the bed. “I just want to go home.”

“Well, I’m not running all over town to take care of both of you,” David said. He yanked on Stevie’s hand. “Get up and get in bed.”

“You’re gonna take care of us?” Patrick asked weakly.

“Yes. I can be very fucking thoughtful.” He tore off Stevie’s slippers and shoved her into bed next to Patrick.

“My abominable snowman slippers,” she cried, before succumbing to a fit of hollow coughs. “Be careful with those.”

Patrick shuffled to his side of the bed, throwing half his blanket over Stevie. “You know,” Patrick said, “he didn’t ask me before bringing you here. No offence.”

David pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “In the past twenty-four hours the two of you have sent a total of sixty-seven text messages and left five voicemails full of phlegm.”

“You counted?” Stevie asked absently.

“Yes. I have to take care of the store. And since the two of you have no one else in your lives--”

“We have each other,” Stevie murmured, pulling the blanket up to her ears. Patrick nodded.

“Touching. _ Anyway_, this is just less stressful for me.” David walked to the other side of the bed and kissed Patrick’s forehead. “I’ll get tea, tissues, cough syrup, and Stevie her own blanket because she can’t share.”

“Can you roll the TV in here?” Patrick asked. “My mom always did that for me when I was sick.”

“That sounds nice.”

“The television doesn’t roll.” David said. “Patrick doesn’t have furniture with wheels.”

“And whose fault is that?” Patrick asked, yawning.

“Can you turn it this way?” Stevie asked. “We’re sick and need garbage TV.”

“Fine,” David said. His voice implied that it was not, in fact, fine. “But I will be expecting a huge return for this entire favor.”

“Is it a favor if no one asked for it?” Patrick said.

“I don’t think it is. I think this is forced imprisonment.”

“You are terrible people and I would like to remind you that I’m being really nice and risking my own _ health and well-being _ by taking care of you two.”

David walked to the kitchen and returned with two prescription bottles of cough medicine and spoons.

“It’s twelve-thirty. You can have more in four hours, but take it easy so I can dose you tonight and get some sleep.”

“Where are you going to sleep?” Patrick asked. “I just have the loveseat. Are you going to the motel?”

“Yeah,” Stevie said, “there’s just the loveseat and you’re like seven feet tall.”

“So tall,” Patrick agreed.

“I don’t have that worked out yet,” David said. “Now take your medicine and I’ll be back at five. If you need anything… text Ted.”

Stevie and Patrick looked at each other. She nudged him with her foot.

“Thank you, David,” they chimed at the same time.

“Oh my god,” David muttered. “This is my nightmare.”

***

Stevie opened her eyes, surrounded by a fluffy blanket. It was nice. What wasn’t nice was the intense snoring. Patrick was facing her, mouth wide open, blowing gusts of noise in her face.

She picked up her phone. It was four. There were no texts from David. He’s taking this all very seriously.

Patrick groaned and stretched next to her. She sat up and smiled.

“Afternoon. God, your voice is beautiful when you snore, I can see why you got into music.”

“Sorry,” Patrick said, wiping drool away from his lips. “What time is it?”

“Four. Your boyfriend has officially abandoned us.” She held up her phone.

“Is it medicine time yet?” Patrick yawned. “Medicine time good.”

“Almost.” Stevie ran her fingers through Patrick’s hair and touched the back of her wrist to his forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever. Antibiotics?”

“Antibiotics,” Patrick agreed, then turned red with a coughing fit.

“I’ll get some water,” Stevie said and stood. “Oh, fuck. Nope, standing was a mistake.” She sat back on the bed.

“What do we do?”

Stevie grinned at him and dialed her phone, putting it on speaker.

“_What_?”

“David,” Patrick whined, “I need water and Stevie can’t stand up.”

“David, where’s the remote? Can you get soup?”

“Soup! Soup sounds good.”

David sighed. “How about you two drink some more night-night juice and I’ll be home soon.”

“Thank you, David,” they sang in unison.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” David hung up.

***

The front door flew open and David stumbled in, carrying an oddly shaped bundle. He kicked the door shut behind him and dropped whatever it was on the floor.

“Oh, good, so you actually _ could _ get up,” David said. Stevie and Patrick were sitting up in bed, sipping tea, and watching TV.

“It was very difficult,” Patrick said.

Stevie nodded. “Patrick slipped on the floor. He almost died.”

“Sounds very treacherous.” David hung up his coat and placed a take out bag on the counter. “Here’s your soup.”

Stevie nodded to the pile in the living room. “Whatcha got there?”

“An air mattress. Twyla uses it when her third step-cousin once removed or something is in town.” He spread the deflated mattress in front of the fireplace.

“We have cots at the motel.”

“Yes, and this building doesn’t have an elevator.”

“It’s honestly probably more comfortable,” Stevie said. Thank you.”

David looked up. “For what?”

“I’m sleeping on the air mattress…”

“No,” David said, “why?”

“Because this is your bed.”

“It’s Patrick’s bed.”

“David,” Patrick said, “it’s your bed too.”

“Well that’s lovely, but there’s no way in hell I’m sleeping in that germ incubator.”

David flipped the mattress over. “How the fuck do you work this thing?”

***

The next day Stevie and Patrick felt better, but still living in bed like Charlie Bucket’s grandparents. They just finished _ The Day After Tomorrow_. It was verboten in David’s presence. David had been in a feud with Emmy Rossum, something to do with the art heir David Wildenstein and a Gauguin painting.

“If we didn’t watch something every time there was a Rose family vendetta,” Patrick said, “we’d never see anything again. Except maybe _ Sesame Street_.”

“No,” Stevie said, blowing her nose. “Mrs. Rose never got over Kim Cattrall getting to demonstrate the word ‘fabulous.’”

“Do you ever wonder how the Roses are real and how you ended up with them?” Patrick asked.

“All the time. You should have seen them when they first got here. They were helpless.” Stevie cocked her head. “Well, more helpless than they are now. Though David still makes me help him with bugs.”

“You’re one of them, you know.”

Stevie weakly slapped his arm. “No I’m not.”

“You so are,” Patrick laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t been served with adoption papers.”

“Do you get ‘served’ with adoption papers?”

“You do if it’s from the Roses.” Patrick looked at Stevie. “You know you’re David’s soulmate right?” he asked quietly.

“Ew, what? Did he say that?”

“No, but it’s obvious.”

“You’re his soulmate.”

Patrick sighed. “I’m not, and that’s okay. But think about it, what’s more likely, you and David being one then split apart, or he and I? You’re both guarded, but blunt. You don’t give a damn what people think about you, but are extremely hard on yourselves. You guys have meaningful conversations that you pretend are arguments and talk to each other like there’s no one else in the room. You use clothing as armor. You’re the most stubborn people I’ve ever met.”

“Plato’s soulmates were satirical. David and I never did magic cartwheels until we pissed off Zeus.”

“Whatever,” Patrick said, smiling. “You’re two sides of one amazing being. And you would have absolutely pissed off Zeus.”

Stevie burrowed entirely into her blanket. “Shut up, Brewer,” she mumbled.

He lifted her blanket and grinned. “You are and you know it. You love him as much as I do.”

“No.”

“He completes you.”

“Gross.”

“He’s like your brother.”

“Ew, Patrick!” Stevie said before she realized how Rose it sounded.

“Stevie.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Stevie sat up and blew her nose again and wiped her eyes. Just because she was sick. She started at Patrick, his eyes shining. “Well, then we’ve both fucked my brother. So that’s normal.”

The door opened and David walked in, saw them snuggled in bed, and rolled his eyes. Stevie saw a glimpse of a half-smile.

“What are you doing?”

Patrick and Stevie looked at each other. “Just discussing Plato’s _ Symposium_, why?” Stevie said.

David narrowed his eyes. “You two look really happy and it’s very creepy. Please stop.”

Patrick whispered in Stevie’s ear and they looked at David.

“We love you, David!” they yelled as loudly as they could.

“Okay, weirdos. Maybe it’s time to lay off the codeine,” David muttered. He turned away and grabbed the tea kettle. But Stevie saw a full smile this time.


End file.
